


John Helps On a Case

by sherlockian4evr



Series: Getting It Together [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Dildos, First Time, It's For a Case, M/M, Prostate Stimulation, Top John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 21:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4409045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From an old sherlockbbc-fic prompt.</p><p>John walks in on Sherlock.<br/>Sitting on the couch. Listlessly. With a dildo up his arse.<br/>It's for a case. (No really, it is.)<br/>(And he can't help but notice that Sherlock isn't even hard.)<br/>John sputters.<br/>Sexytimes ensured.</p><p>Bonus-points if the reason why Sherlock isn't into it is because he hasn't discovered his prostate yet.</p><p>Beta read by <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110">Sherlock1110.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	John Helps On a Case

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [You're Doing It Wrong](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4408928) by [Sherlock1110](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110). 



John didn't drop the groceries because Sherlock was sprawled across the sofa. He didn't even drop the groceries because the detective was in the nude, though it was a close call. He did, however, drop the groceries because said detective had a dildo stuck up his arse. John closed his eyes, but the damage had already been done, he was getting hard. The image of Sherlock, like that, was seared into his mind.

"It's for a case," came Sherlock's less than enthusiastic explanation.

John risked opening one eye. He could see that his flatmate wasn't even hard. "Right. Because it only makes sense that you would need to stick a dildo up your own arse for a case." He willed away his growing erection, bent over and retrieved the groceries from the floor and carried them to the kitchen where he started putting them away. John paused and dry washed his face. He had wanted his mad flatmate from the beginning, seeing him like this... well, he would have to get an early shower. Until then, he would have to play it cool.

Sherlock called from the living room, "The deceased had been self-stimulating internally just before time of death, apparently quite successfully. I am attempting to replicate his success to better understand the parameters that make up the last few hours of his life."

Poking his head back into the living room, John once again noted the lack of an erection. "Well, you're obviously doing it wrong." John was treated to one of Sherlock's best glares but he only laughed. "Really. I assure you, if you were doing it correctly, you would definitely know it."

"Fine doctor. I suppose that you can show me what I'm doing wrong." Sherlock knew that it was an empty challenge. John wouldn't come near him in any way that could be construed as sexual.

John considered. If he played his cards right, this might be his one chance to get his hands on the detective who was married to his work. He couldn't pass up this opportunity. "Okay, then. But we do this my way."

Eyes widening, Sherlock watched as John came and knelt by his side. Just having his doctor watching him made his cock give a twitch of interest.

"I want you to close your eyes, Sherlock, and picture someone you fancy."

That was easy enough. He pictured John.

The doctor reached down and placed his hand over the detective's own on the dildo. He pulled it out slightly and pushed it back in with an upward angle. Sherlock's hips jerked.

"John... that..." Sherlock's voice was breathy.

"That was your prostate, Sherlock." John was smiling, trying to suppress his laughter. "Now, you keep doing that and you'll soon feel exactly what the deceased was feeling." John watched, entranced, as Sherlock stroked that bundle of nerves over and over, his body shivering.

Sherlock cried out sounding completely broken, "John, it's too much, not enough!" He had quit moving except for his violent trembling. "Please, John. Please."

John was painfully hard and, oh God how he wanted Sherlock, but now he felt guilty. He couldn't have him like this. "I can't Sherlock. It's not that I don't want to, but you would regret it later. You don't want me."

"Yes I do, John. I always have. Oh, God! Please." He reached out and grabbed John's wrist. "Please."

The doctor could resist a lot, but not that confession combined with that plea. "Okay, Sherlock." He stripped quickly, faster than he ever had before in his life, and climbed onto the detective.

John reached down and withdrew the dildo from Sherlock's hole, throwing it down on the floor. It would only get in the way later. He let his hands roam over the detective's torso, pausing to tease each nipple until they formed sharp peaks. Sherlock moaned and keened beneath him, making the most erotic sounds. John wanted to hear more of them so he took each nipple into his mouth in turn and suckled at them long and hard. The detective's back arched up off of the sofa and John pressed him back down with his weight.

"God! John, please. I swear, I'm dying."

John could hear tears in the detective's voice. "I've got you, Sherlock. You're not dying. Trust me. Let me do this for you, you gorgeous creature. I'll take you apart, but I'll put you back together. You're brilliant, amazing. Let me take care of you."

Sherlock didn't sound so panicked now. "I do trust you, John. Always."

Their cocks were hard, pressed between them where they lay. John ground down against Sherlock's erection even harder and elicited a moan. He kissed the hollow at the base of the detective's neck, moved up to suck on his adam's apple and then kissed along the line of his jaw. Sherlock turned his head and their mouths met in a sloppy kiss. Their tongues tangled in a give and take of pleasure.

John wanted Sherlock to know that this meant more to him than just base lust, though there was plenty of that. "Do you know," kiss, "how very much," kiss, "you mean," kiss, "to me?"

The detective shook his head, wide eyed, sweat dripping from his curls.

"You mean everything to me, you idiot," John said lovingly.

Sherlock's arms, which had been laying by his side, came up to enfold the doctor. He began placing kisses on every surface that he could reach. John giggled at the onslaught.

When John wriggled his arms free of Sherlock's embrace, he moved his hand down and wrapped it around the detective's cock.

Sherlock inhaled sharply and cried out, "John..."

The doctor moved his hand lower and paused to fondle the detective's bollocks. Sherlock spread his legs for him, giving him better access. John didn't hurry. He kneaded the sack with his surgeons fingers, enjoying the look of bliss that played over the detective's face. After some time, the doctor allowed his fingers to slide over Sherlock's perenium. If anyone had been watching, they would have seen John's smirk as the detective turned his face into the back of the sofa.

Halting all movement, John asked knowingly, "Is this okay, or should I stop?"

Sherlock turned back to look at him with a heated glare. "If you stop now, even Mycroft won't be able to find your body."

John placed a sloppy kiss on the detective's petulant lips. "From you, I'll take that as dirty talk." He moved his fingers lower to Sherlock's hole. It was well slicked and still quite loose. "I need the lube, Sherlock."

The detective reached, blindly, with his long arm, and retrieved the bottle of lube from the floor where he had discarded it earlier. John took it and quickly slicked up his cock. He lined himself up with Sherlock's hole and slowly pushed his way into the detective's heat. The doctor could feel Sherlock's muscles quivering around him as he adjusted to John's presence.

"It's okay, John. You can move."

So John did. He started off with slow shallow thrusts. "I've wanted you for so long. You feel... so good." His fingers tightened on Sherlock's hips.

The detective covered John's fingers with his own, encouraging him to hold on tighter, harder. "More, John. Harder. Make me feel it."

Those words spoke to some animalistic part of John's brain and he increased his pace and pounded harder into the detective below him. He retained just enough presence of mind to reach for Sherlock's cock, but the other man grasped his hand and placed it back on his hip.

Sherlock took himself in hand lest John release his grasp on him again. The detective timed his strokes with John's thrusts, soon reaching a frenzy. When John came with Sherlock's name on his lips, it tipped the detective over into his own orgasm and white stripes of come painted both their abdomens and chests.

The sofa was narrow and they were quite a mess, but Sherlock didn't object when John snuggled up next to him with a contented sigh.

After a while, John asked, "So, was your experiment a success? Do you understand about internal self simulation?"

Sherlock appeared to consider quite seriously for a moment. "Further experimentation will be required. Of course, if I get overwhelmed again, I will require your assistance."

"Of course," John replied, straight faced.

"Many iterations will most likely be required."

John rolled over in the small space. "That's good." He kissed his detective then noticed the twinkle in the other man's eyes. "Or we could just skip the excuses and do this whenever you like."

Sherlock pretended to ponder that for a moment. "That would be acceptable." Then, there was no other word for it, he attacked. He stroked, nudged, nuzzled and kissed his doctor who reciprocated in kind.

The dildo lay forgotten on the floor, silent witness to all it had started.


End file.
